Hero
by dreamerchaos
Summary: Inspiration came from kirin saga's transformers bunny farm. Perceptor saves Sunstreaker's life, nearly at the cost of his own. The Twins don't know how to react to that especially considering how they've always treated Perceptor. Slash hinted.


Fic: Hero

Title: Hero  
Author: dreamerchaos  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are owned by Hasbro. I'm only playing with them.  
Summary: Inspiration came from kirin_saga's transformers bunny farm. And there will be Twins and Perceptor. Nothing too smutty, sadly, but the pairing will be hinted.  
Any and all mistakes are mine.

* * *

Perceptor saves Sunstreaker's life, nearly at the cost of his own. The Twins don't know how to react to that especially considering how they've always treated Perceptor.

* * *

"Out of the way!" Sunstreaker shoved Bluestreak out of his path, pushing the sharpshooter out of immediate danger and meeting the seeker as he swooped down from the sky behind the unwary Autobot.

"Little insect." Starscream is quick to hiss, the mechs clashing together, fingers entwined as Decepticon and Autobot struggle to force the other back. "I'll pound you into the ground until you're only a smear of energon beneath the heel of my pede!"

"Big talk." Sunstreaker growls. He smashes his forehead forward, cracking into the Decepticon's face and the seeker shrieks in surprise and pain.

With an ungodly shriek, Starscream slams his left forearm against Sunstreaker's chest, sending the mech hurtling backwards.

Sunstreaker gasps at the impact, equilibrium scattered as he smashing against the ground.

Starscream looms over him, revealing a concealed blaster from subspace.

"I won't sully myself by using the null rays on _you_, little glitch that you are." Starscream swears darkly. Aiming the barrel of the blaster between Sunstreaker's optics, a sneer of pleasure painting his dark features whilst the mech is temporarily unable to move, paralyzed by the impact with the ground, watching in passive horror as the weapon begins to charge. "This is to make certain that you burn in the Pit!"

"SUNNY!" Dimly, Sunstreaker hears his twin crying out in horror, struggling to break past the Stunticons. "SUNNY!!"

Starscream grins, relishing the Autobot's agonized cries. His finger pulls taut upon the trigger, memorizing the dawning look of horror and failure upon the yellow mech's face. "Die."

The flash of the weapon is white-hot, blinding Sunstreaker.

"NO!"

Suddenly a sturdy form falls upon his frame, Sunstreaker's hands immediately, instinctively rising to brace the body that falls along his front.

A sharp cry of pain, and Sunstreaker gags as his olfactory sensors recognize the scent of scorched metal and hot copper wires.

A loud, agonizing wail, a voice that Sunstreaker recognizes. "Nooo!!" Bluestreak howls.

"Perceptor!" In the distance, Wheeljack screams the fellow scientist's name.

Optics filtering out the painful reaction from the blaster's shot, Sunstreaker stares in mute shock at the bright energon soaking into the palms of his hands, black fingers slipping among the gore-painted back of the microscope sprawled limply across his front. The bright yellow Autobot's fingers tentatively dip into the ragged wound of melted metal and bared components peeking out of the gaping hole in the microscope's back.

His voice is as meek as a sparkling's, lost and alone without its creator. "Perceptor...?"

'No no no no. Why? Why for me? Notasoldierwhy?'

"nNNgk.." Perceptor shudders, pumps rebelling. The sharp shudder causes him to fall to the side, and a cascade of energon erupts from his mouth, spilling a miniature lake upon the dry sand.

"Percy!" There isn't anywhere Sunstreaker can lay his hands without causing the microscope further pain or injury. Finding the only available and uninjured appendage, he clutches a cobalt hand between his two dark ones, squeezing tighter and tighter until he is given a weak squeeze in response. "Don't let go, okay? Don't let go of my hand!"

"...sunstreak--"

"Don't talk!" Sunstreaker snarls. "Save your strength, you idiot!"

Perceptor ignores the mech's command. His hand flops weakly upon Sunstreaker's thigh, scrabbling feebly as he tries unsuccessfully to lift himself up to look Sunstreaker in the face. His vocal processor struggling to enunciate his words. "...sun-streekkerrr...k-k-'kay...?" Dim optics tilt up enough for Sunstreaker to make out the microscope's tightly pinched face, the slimmer mech obviously struggling to shut down as many pain receptors as possibly within close proximity of the gaping wound.

"Pathetic." Starscream observes the 'touching' scene with smug indifference. "What a poor attempt of rescue. Useless fool."

**"You fragging Pit spawn!"** Blaster and Ironhide barrel into the gloating Decepticon, knocking the weapon loose, pounding their fists into any and all available surface as they bear the Seeker into the ground.

A maelstrom of chaos erupts across the battlefield, the Autobot forces breaking formation and going for any Decepticons that are within the immediate vicinity.

"Mechs down! Form a barrier, form a barrier!" Trailbreaker barks, keeping a level helm, flanked by Mirage and Hound as they set up formation around the two downed Autobots.

Starscream loses a wing and his forearm in a desperate attempt to break free from the two combatants, stumbling to his feet and avoiding an enraged blast of flames from the Dinobot leader. Grimlock roars in fury, chasing after the grounded Seeker, his brothers remaining doggedly on his heels as they chase the Seeker until he manages to disappear within the relative safety of the Decepticon line.

"Ground forces, cover-fire!" Optimus reestablishes order, swinging his arm to direct weapon fire, keeping the few straggling Decepticons at bay with several close blasts.

Sideswipe finally manages to make it to his brother's side, falling to his knees beside his brightly painted twin. "Sunny!"

Sunstreaker can't even look at him, Sideswipe's hands hovering helplessly above the surface of his brother's shoulders as the mech fervently rocks the injured mech within his arms.

"I don't get it.." Sunstreaker can't understand why. _Why..._

Why would anyone beside his twin be so selfish - and so stupid! - to throw themselves between the mech and Decepticon?

'Not for me...'

Sideswipe valiantly attempts to staunch the copious flow of energon, whimpering in unison when the microscope gasps as those dark hands unintentionally touch the curled metal lips of the wound.

"Medic!" Sideswipe hollers over the loud din of the battlefield as the Autobots try to make sense of who lay injured and those who were not in immediate danger. "Medic--**Ratchet**!!"

"Stay with me, okay?" Sunstreaker pleads, trying to ignore the creeping chill settling into the injured mech's frame. He maneuvers the broken limbs within his grip, burying his face between the cradle of the microscope's neck and barrel scope.

Perceptor's optics seep into black, catching a final whisper as he falls into darkness.

"Just stay with me!"

* * *

**"No."**

"Get me another set of clamps!"

"S-Sir!"

"Ratchet, I can't get the pressure to stabilize-"

"Frag it, his laser core casing has been sheared. Wheeljack! I need to remove the casing."

"But Ratchet--"

"Get me another casing. There's one in the-"

"Ratchet! He's too weak. He can't handle such a procedure!"

"Ratchet, I think he is coming online."

"Why didn't you say something sooner! First Aid, assist me."

"Yes, sir."

A soothing hand brushes the taut line of his neck, delving into the seams-

And again there is only darkness.

* * *

Pain.

Horrible, excruciating agony. Energon spikes piercing every centimeter of dermal plating.

He convulses, desperately seeking to escape from the lancing pain.

"He's crashing!!"

"No! Not now! Not when we are so close!"

Hands hold him down, metal vices pressing him flat.

A long, piercing shriek strips the inside of his throat, a fresh coat of energon kissing his tongue, hands clenching and unclenching upon the metal berth.

"Don't do this to me!" A voice hisses, hands caging his face, holding him firm.

"Perceptor, hold on." The voice instructs bristly. A slight tremble is evident in the speaker, who struggles to hide his fear. "Just a little longer. The transfusion is nearly complete. We need to make sure that the casing is stabilized and properly acclimated with your systems."

There is a loud crash to his right, but he can't turn his head.

_"What the Pit are you doing to him?!"_ He recognizes the angry voice of the red twin.

"Sideswipe, get out! This isn't the place for you now!"

A sharp growl of annoyance, patience finally lost. "If someone isn't going to administer analgesic, then get out of my way!"

Once more, a hand dips in between cables and wires -

And then the pain is fading away, and he's fading, and then

And then

* * *

Rising from the darkness, he hesitates. Waiting, anticipating the raging maw of agony.

Instead, there is a dull, but steady thrum of aching limbs and sore frame.

His entire frame feels as if it weighs the equivalent of three Omega Supremes.

"Nnn-" It hurts to move a single finger, and the effort forced into the act of switching online his optics is almost enough to shove him back into recharge.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty!" The ecstatic voice jolts him further.

"...jazz..." He whispers past an unlubricated and raw throat.

The saboteur is practically bouncing on his pedes, leaning over the prostrate microscope with a bright grin.

"Glad to see you online and responsive, my red and blue friend! Had us all worried!"

"...how long have I been offline?"

The doors to the medical bay open just before Jazz can answer. Ratchet scowls in the saboteur's general direction. "Jazz, stop harassing my patient."

Jazz gives the medical officer his best 'Who, me?' expression. "Would I do such a thing, Ratchet?"

Ratchet doesn't deign to answer. Striding to stand on Perceptor's opposite side, he begins a routine check, snapping his fingers in front of the microscope's optics, testing the degree and range that his optics can focus and maintain. "Talk to me, Perceptor." He coaxes.

"Ratchet?" Perceptor slurs. Every word takes a great deal of effort to enunciate. "How...long have I...been offline?"

"Almost fourteen cycles." Ratchet admits after a long pause. The hands pause, laying over Perceptor's chest, directly atop the Spark casing nestled deep within the confines of the microscope's torso. "...We almost lost you on several occasions."

"Wheeljack and First Aid are in recharge." Jazz adds, much to Ratchet's obvious chagrin. Most likely displeased that Perceptor is being bombarded with a visitor and the freshest gossip so soon after coming online. "Between the them and Ratchet, not a single one has gotten any rest. Everyone is too anxious and nervous to leave you alone. But Ratchet felt safe with me sitting in and keeping an optic on you in their place."

"...Thank you, Jazz." Perceptor whispers.

Ratchet begins to make shooing gestures at the saboteur, chasing the mech away from his patient. "You've had your time to visit and chat. Now get out and give he some peace and quiet in order to perform proper maintenance!"

Jazz danced outside of Ratchet's reach, making his escape. "Gotcha, Hatchet, old buddy!" He teased the medic. "I'll go and share the good news that Percy's all right, then."

"Scat!" Ratchet warned, lifting a piece of heavy medical equipment in warning.

"Right, then. Talk to ya later, Percy, don'!" Jazz ducked out of the room, narrowly avoiding the hurtled instrument as it clanged loudly against the frame of the doorway.

"Finally some peace and quiet." Ratchet growls. Turning away from the direction that the mech had made his escape, the medic focused once again on his patient. "Make yourself comfortable, Perceptor. We'll be here for a little while I run some tests."

"Hhmm." Perceptor hums in compliance, optics powering down to conserve energy, lying upon the medical berth in willing agreement, knowing he is in safe company.

Ratchet putters around the ward, making short comments about his findings. Using speech as a cloak to hide his great relief that the microscope had awakened from a coma-like state that, for quite some time, he and his fellow engineer and medical personnel had felt that the scientist might not recover.

Only when he is certain that Perceptor is half in recharge, optics near pitch-black, does the medic allow himself to bend forward and press his forehead against the scientist's.

"Don't ever scare me like that again, you brave, foolish mech." He whispers in near silent relief.

* * *

"Perceptor!"

"Perceptor okay!"

Nearly three solar cycles later, Ratchet finally allows him to leave the confines of the medical ward under the solemn promise not to overexert his still recovering body.

Perceptor idly wonders if being crushed by two Dinobots would count.

"I'm happy to see you too!" Perceptor laughs shakily, squeaking past the fierce group embrace as both Grimlock and Sludge sandwich the poor mech after their brothers had had their turn at assaulting the much smaller microscope.

Swoop hovered over all three mechs like a mother guarding her nest with small newborn chicks. His hands flutter helplessly, waving his arms in warning. "You Grimlock and Sludge don't squeeze him Perceptor too hard!" He squawks indignantly, pulling Perceptor from the crushing embrace of his brother and leader.

Slag and Snarl don't bother to hide their broad laughing faces as Swoop herds the Dinobots out of the rec room in order to give the scientist a measure of peace. "Perceptor better come visit Dinobots soon, or me Slag won't be happy." Slag warns the microscope before his brother pulls him away from lecturing the smaller Autobot.

Perceptor sighed, relieved to have a moment of peace.

Only to last a moment before Bluestreak and Blaster pounce.

"Hey, little buddy!" Blaster wrapped his arms around the microscope's shoulders, and Perceptor wobbles underneath the larger mech's bulk. "Nearly scared me to the Pit!"

"Are you _really_ okay, Perceptor?" Bluestreak inquired in concern, peering into the microscope's face as if trying to discern if the mech was hiding any unseen or undisclosed injury.

His back nestled into Blaster's chest, Perceptor wasn't able to rub the back of his neck in embarrassment, not used to being to focus of such intense concentration. "I'm just a bit tired, that's all, Bluestreak."

"Did ol' Hatchet already give you a lecture about not working too hard?" Blaster asked.

"Yes."

Bluestreak glared - but the gesture failed, the expression giving him more of the appearance of a petulant pout - jumping to the right conclusion. "You're going to work in your labs today, aren't you?"

Perceptor's hands flutter as he sputters awkwardly. "Not for very long!"

"Percy-" Blaster warns.

"Please, Blaster!" Perceptor pleads. "Optimus and Prowl have placed me under temporary suspension from future skirmishes or scientific surveys until Ratchet gives his approval. I need to work on _something_ before my CPU short-circuits."

"Well..."

"Promise not to work too hard, Perceptor."

"I promise." Perceptor swears, wriggling and slithering out from Blaster's embrace. The officer laughs as the microscope manages to slip away. "Don't be shy, Percy! Come and visit once in a while!" He calls out as Perceptor makes his escape.

Perceptor smiles sheepishly, waving over a shoulder, retreating from the din and activity of the rec room, wanting some privacy and a measure of quiet. Some time alone.

'So where did those depressing thoughts from before disappear to, hmm?' He asks himself. 'What was that about wanting to be remembered for something, but instead running away like a timid organic rabbit when others show you a small amount of affection?'

Gracious, he didn't have the answer. That memory of that moment of spite and despondency caused core temperature to rise, the dermal plating of his cheeks to heat in embarrassment.

'It's...just been a very lonely and depressing time.' Is the only answer he can provide. Too much time alone with my thoughts and myself.

'So your answer is to scurry back into the cold comfort and sanctuary of your labs, then?'

Perceptor releases a small gust of air through his vents.

Primus, he was holding an argument with a voice in his CPU. Wouldn't Ratchet simply _love_ to file that into his medical records? The medic would place the microscope under indefinite house arrest and further testing if he feared that Perceptor was suffering from a nervous or system meltdown.

He can't enter the access code fast enough to gain access into his labs.

Emitting a sigh of relief as the door slides open with a hushed 'swish', Perceptor bolts into the safety of the secluded rooms.

Halting in surprise when finding not one, but two occupants sitting silently upon the few available chairs.

"Umm.." He stutters eloquently. "H-How can I be of assistance, Sunstreaker? Sideswipe?"

The two mechs stare back with intense scrutiny. Sideswipe straddling his chair backwards, arms folded over the silver back. Chin nestled upon his forearms.

Sunstreaker sits confident and silent, legs spread wide, arms folded across his chest, scrutiny no less intense than his brother's is.

Perceptor shifts his footing, awkwardly shuffling in place, back pressed against the door he has just stepped past. 'Well...this is comfortable.' He notes with dark humor.

"Why, Percy?"

"Ha?" He startled, clearly jolted by the sharp question.

"Why did you jump in front of Screamer, you fraggin' idiot?!" Sunstreaker so 'charismatically' clarifies his brother's low growl. He throws his full weight onto his feet, and Perceptor flinches back under the hot glare.

"I...I--"

"Yes, _YOU_." Sunstreaker snarls. "Did I stutter?"

"Sunny." Sideswipe cautions.

"No!" Sunstreaker swipes his hand, slicing through the air, cutting his brother's warning. Spinning around, he returns his rage back onto the microscope. "I want to hear the reason for such a stupid action. You stupid, stupid...!!"

The brightly painted warrior mech can't sputter the proper words to describe his frustration and fury. Balled fists tremble against black hips, head and face bowed low to mask a painfully grimace of denta grinding together.

"You stupid idiot." He finally gasps, those three words seeming to drain him of strength. Sunstreaker collapses back into his seat, burying his face into his hands. Folding upon the chair, larger body bowed and beaten, shoulders shaking as he tries to bury the onslaught of emotions.

Perceptor is torn. A significant part of him wants to melt into the door, slide between the seams, and disappear and retreat down the corridors as far away from the angry, broken mech as possible.

And yet another piece of him can't bear the idea of leaving the mech to tangibly suffer under the confusion and undirected fury.

Before he can make sense of his actions, the microscope has covered the distance separating him and the mech. Deciding not to calculate the odds of having a limb torn off by his comforting gesture, Perceptor slides his arms around the folded mech's broad shoulders.

"I'm sorry." He apologizes with sincere, earnest honesty. "I'm sorry that I've hurt you so badly."

The sharply defined fins shift to the side as Sunstreaker tilts his head, burying his face against the examination plate of the microscope's chest. Strong arms entwine around the slimmer mech's waist, pulling him flush, encompassing the willing prey within the cradle of his embrace.

"Sunny." Sideswipe sighs. At some point he had risen from his seat, carefully approaching to nestle against his twin, nudging his brother, pressing against the microscope as he huddles closer to the daffodil-bright mech. He lays his helm against Sunstreaker's, optics dimmed, offering silent comfort to his shaken twin.

"It's...too cruel." Sunstreaker whimpers low, hating the weakness clearly painted within his words. Yet unable to disguise the wounds laid bare, still aching, as fresh and warm as the spilled energon that had previously painted his hands when Perceptor had collapsed within his arms. "How could anyone do something so selfish and cruel. Throwing your self away, taking the bullet meant for another when you know that you may not walk away from it..."

"But you're willing and prepared to sacrifice yourself for victory for the Autobots." Perceptor hesitates to point out.

"That's different." Sideswipe interrupts. "We're willing to sacrifice everything for the whole. For all of the Cybertronians who have fallen and will fall in battle. But it's not that simple anymore, is it? Not-"

"Not when someone who isn't a warrior - who's only learned the difference between the muzzle of a blaster from the aft end! - Who has never seen _real_ combat, but still leaps into the fray and takes a hit that wasn't meant for him in the first place." Sunstreaker fills in.

"I couldn't stand aside and let you be off-lined." Perceptor whispers hoarsely. Pumps churning as the after-image of Starscream's triumphant face flashes across his optical screens, Sunstreaker's face falling blank in surprise and dawning horror as the Seeker's weapon fires.

"Why? Why go and be a hero?"

"After all the scrap and slag we've given you?"

"Out of all the mechs here, why us, Percy?" Sideswipe echoes.

Perceptor bites his bottom lip. Taking a measure of a moment to find the right words.

Because...

No matter the pointed looks and words that he has endured from both of the Twins, there is still one unifying truth:

Where one began, the other would end. Entwined together within a continuous loop that never ceased to interchange constant flow devotion and trust, an inseparable bond.

"Because I couldn't stand the thought of losing you both." Perceptor finally admits.

'Because I knew that losing one of you, that the other would soon follow.'

'That you love each other so much, that for one of you to be left behind would be...beyond cruel.'

'Because it hurt so much to watch that fierce, aching love shatter into cold ice and melt away while your life slowly faded away.'

Sideswipe shudders, and for a moment, Perceptor fears that the mech has suddenly gained the ability to read his thoughts.

"I don't want to lose this." He whispers, lips brushing against their audio receptors.

Perceptor misunderstands, fearing that he has intruded too far into a personal moment between the Twins.

But when he tries to escape from Sunstreaker's embrace and give them a measure of privacy, the arms tighten further.

"Don't leave. Please."

"Don't leave us again, Percy." Sideswipe pleads, the additional weight of the mech's arms encircling his shoulders causing the microscope to trust the solid strength of the limbs keeping him firmly within the warm, thrumming embrace.

'It's so warm...' He can't help but to fall quiet and relax, soothed by the steady warmth and firm cage of metal and struts.

"Can't you stay?"

"Yeah. Just stay."

"..." Perceptor leans forward, resting his head against the support of both the warriors' helms. The glow of all three pairs of optics settling a bright pulsing halo of azure light that kisses their faces.

"All right." He acquiesces, not finding a reason to resist. Not wanting to refuse. "I can do that."

And it is all worth it, when the dull ache and heavy exhaustion that has haunted his frame since he has left the medical ward disappears beneath the weight of the mechs' firm support and comfortable silence.

Because...He doesn't have to be a hero in order to gain some semblance of connection or fleeting empathy.

He does not feel so cold and alone anymore.

Not when he is in this moment.

END

Author: Meh. I'm satisfied with this fic. But it feels a bit...lacking, somehow. Like I didn't give the Twins as much character as I could.  
Well, all said and done, a decent piece of work. I have no regrets.

His legs were moving without his conscious control.

Sunstreaker, stunned by the Seeker's sudden show of strength and rage, lay in supine horror as the barrel of the blaster finished its charge.

Starscream's finger pulled taut upon the trigger.

'No!'

'I won't let you take him.'

They weren't friends. By the Pit, Sunstreaker and his twin, Sideswipe, couldn't be bothered to offer the slightest ounce of courtesy or consideration, barely noticing the microscope's presence. Did anyone?

Anyone?

'Such dismal pondering.' He notes, disappointed by those dark, depressive thoughts. 'You should be proud to be an Autobot. You're part of a bigger, better world. No matter how small of a part you've played.'

But...still...

He couldn't just stand there and watch a helpless mech forcefully deactivated while his brother howled in agony in the background, Sideswipe screaming his twin's name as he stretched forward desperately in hopes to reach the yellow Autobot.

'And what would it matter.' A cynical voice whispers in the back of his CPU. 'Whatever happens, no matter the consequences...'

'Just once.'

'Just once...'

'It would nice to be noticed and remembered for something.'

Well, that was a selfish thought, wasn't it? Perceptor realized in detached interest as he falls across the yellow Autobot, shielding the much broader and larger frame, having only enough time to cover Sunstreaker's vitals before the round slammed into his back.

And, ohhh... He hears himself cry out in pain-

Oh Primus it hurts so much-

And his limbs betray him, falling limp as several vital gears and pumps are shattered, pieces burning or melting into indistinguishable husks within the soon-to-be coffin of his damaged frame.

Hands capture his fall, but encroach upon the gaping wound. He shudders in pain, pumps churning in disgust and nausea.

He hears his name being spoken. Uttered in surprise, then reverent fear.

He tries to speak, but his voice fails. Instead, a burning tide of energon erupts from the microscope's mouth. He finds that he is thankful that his body lays to the side enough to prevent the waste from touching the fellow Autobot.

It...hurt far more than anything he could have ever imagined.

Other mechs churn in a blur of color and words. Red, orange, white, black, yellow lost among stepping stones of warning messages scattered across his optical screen, multiple message boxes displaying warnings and imminent system failures.

'Goodness.' He watches the countdown as another gear shudders and falls silent. Adjacent systems attempt to share the strain of the failed and dying components, but prove too feeble and too late in those attempts. 'That doesn't look good.' Perceptor regards the newest messages flashing crimson red in warning.

His focus is shattered by the surprising weight and pressure of someone - No, someone - who is suddenly holding his hand.

'S-Sunny?' Perceptor would not dare, even under threat of imminent mutilation, to utter that name aloud. He never uttered Sunstreaker's name unless deemed absolutely necessary, given how the mech would glare at him in irritation or roll his eyes in boredom whenever the microscope inquired the mech for his attention.

He can sense that Sunstreaker is agitated. And he tries to reach a hand up, to do something, anything to try and sooth the mech's upset.

Perceptor hears words pouring out from his mouth, wet and muffled by the bitter taste of energon. "Sunstreaker, are you okay?" But the majority of the message is lost within static as his vocal processor is the next system to begin imminent shutdown.

A new set of hands settle upon his back, and he moans in pain as fingers brush the wound. 'N-Not enough receptors shut down in time.' He whimpers, the pain so agonizing that he would retch if there were anything left in his pumps.

His vision filled until only sleek yellow paint engulfed his optical screens. A rocking motion takes place, and Perceptor is confused by how and why Sunstreaker is clutching him close, tighter until his face is buried against the microscope's neck.

"Stay with me, okay?"

His mouth moves, but no words follow. He presses a dark cheek closely to the broad chest, Perceptor's optics shutter, basking within the warmth a solid cage of arms encircling him.

'It's...so warm.'

He could bask in the safety and comfort forever.

Perceptor trembles, warning screens split by waves of static and color. One final screen files his vision, warning that emergency shutdown was engaging. Energon at 10% and falling. Systems critical.

That...didn't sound good at all.

It is taking too much precious energy and focus to allow his optics to remain online.

Recharge is such a tempting mistress. Cooing soothing words of promise and hope, coaxing him into rest, regardless of how fervently his systems struggle to remain functioning.

He gives in, relaxing as the tantalizing whisper of warmth consumes him, leading him down into the maw of darkness.

A voice, beyond panicking, discomfort etching into his arms and shoulders and a pair of arms clutch him tightly to a warm chest. The voice is shouting, begging, but the plea falls upon deaf audio receptors. The yellow paint drawing down into a pinpoint of light, a tiny trembling sun consumed by the darkness as his optics fall dark.

"Just stay with me!"


End file.
